Chương 11
I listened so carefully that everything else disappeared.
When she finished, I repeated the key points back.
She nodded.
“Exactly.”
Daniel asked one question about alternating medication.
Dr. Patel answered him without judgment.
That almost made me cry.
After she left, I began gathering Noah’s things.
Daniel reached for the diaper bag.
I took it first.
“I can carry something.”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“I said no.”
He looked at Noah.
“You shouldn’t have to do everything.”
The sentence might have broken me six months ago.
Tonight it only made me tired.
“I know.”
Mia stood near the wall, her phone hanging at her side.
Greg looked at her.
“You need to freeze the business accounts.”
She nodded.
“And change access credentials.”
“I know.”
“Call the bank.”
“I know, Greg.”
He backed off.
She looked at Daniel.
“I’m removing you from everything.”
Daniel stared at her.
“Mia, don’t make decisions until you understand what happened.”
She gave him a strange, hollow smile.
“That sounds familiar.”
I zipped the diaper bag.
Noah slept against my shoulder.
Daniel stood between the bed and the door.
“What happens now?”
I looked at him.
“For Noah?”
“For us.”
I adjusted the blanket around our son.
“You go home somewhere else.”
His face tightened.
“You’re kicking me out?”
“I’m telling you not to come back tonight.”
“That’s my house too.”
“Yes.”
I looked at him.
“And that’s exactly why my lawyer emailed you.”
Daniel’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.
For once, silence seemed to do more damage to him than anything I could have said.
He looked at the diaper bag, then at Noah, then back at me.
“Where am I supposed to go?”
I almost answered that it was not my problem.
The words rose clean and hot.
I swallowed them.
“Hotel.”
“Claire.”
“Your office.”
He stared at me.
“Greg’s place, apparently, if you want to complete the evening.”
Greg barked out a surprised laugh before catching himself.
Mia shot him a look.
I hated that I had made a joke.
I hated even more that it felt good for half a second.
Daniel rubbed his forehead.
“You’re serious.”
“Yes.”
“You want me out of the house because of one night.”
I stared at him.
“Do not insult me by calling this one night.”
His shoulders fell.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know what you meant.”
A nurse stepped in carrying discharge papers.
The sudden normalcy of the clipboard nearly broke me.
She went through medication timing, fluids, and the number for the hospital advice line.
I signed where she pointed.
Daniel stood close enough to read over my shoulder but did not touch anything.
The nurse handed me a printed sheet.
“His pediatrician should see him tomorrow.”
“I’ll call first thing.”
“If he stops drinking again, becomes hard to wake, has trouble breathing, or you’re worried for any reason, come back.”
She smiled at Noah.
“He gave everybody a scare.”
Daniel looked away.
The nurse did not know how accurately she had described the night.
Greg left first to get Leo.
Mia followed, then stopped at the door.
She looked at me.
“I’ll send you everything I have.”
Daniel’s head snapped toward her.
“Mia.”
She ignored him.
“The note, the side letter, the emails, whatever I can find.”
“You should send them to your lawyer,” I said.
She hesitated.
“And to yours, if she asks.”
Daniel took a step toward her.
“You need to stop making decisions because you’re angry.”
Mia looked at him.
“No.”
Her voice was quiet.
“I need to start making decisions without asking you what you think first.”
That shut him up.
She left.
I gathered Noah’s blanket, the half-empty bottle, and the medication syringe.
Daniel reached for my coat.
I took it from him.
“Can I at least drive you home?”
“No.”
“You’ve barely slept.”
“I can drive.”
“You were crying an hour ago.”
“I’m not drunk.”
“That’s not what I said.”
I stared at him.
He stopped.
The automatic doors opened into the cold parking lot.
The air hit my face hard enough to wake me.
Noah was bundled against me in his carrier, cheeks flushed but cooler.
Daniel walked beside us.
I had not asked him to.
I did not have the energy to make him stop.
At my car, he stood near the passenger door while I secured Noah.
“Text me when you get home.”
“No.”
His face tightened.
“Claire.”
“I’m not reporting my movements to you.”
“I just want to know Noah is safe.”
“You can call the pediatrician tomorrow after I speak with Rachel.”
His eyes sharpened.
“So now I need permission to ask about my son?”
“No.”
I closed the back door.
“You need to stop using Noah every time you want access to me.”
“That is not what I’m doing.”
“Then act like it.”
He shoved his hands into his coat pockets.
Under the parking lot lights, he suddenly looked exhausted.
Human.
That was inconvenient.
I wanted him simplified.
Cruel people are easier to leave than complicated ones.
“I love him,” he said.
“I know.”
He blinked.
The answer seemed to hurt.
“I love you too.”
I looked at him for a long moment.
“I know you believe that.”
His face changed.
Not anger.
Something worse.
“Claire.”
I opened the driver’s door.
“You should find somewhere to sleep.”
He did not move.
“What happens tomorrow?”
“I call Noah’s doctor.”
“To us.”
“I know what you meant.”
His jaw tightened.
“And?”
“And I talk to Rachel.”
He stared at me.
“You already decided.”
“No.”
I looked across the roof of the car at him.
“I already stopped pretending I hadn’t.”
For once, he had nothing to say.
I got in and closed the door.
My hands shook only after the locks clicked.
I sat there with the engine off, staring through the windshield.
A man in scrubs walked past carrying a fast-food bag.
May you like
A woman in a red coat argued into her phone near the emergency entrance.
Somewhere behind me, Noah made a sleepy grunt.
